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When we'd first arrived that afternoon, Jack and Evelyn had done a full reconnaissance sweep, checking every street, alley and nook. With my extra setup work, I'd only had time to map out two escape routes from my building perch. That should have been enough. I just needed to know how to evacuate my perch in an emergency. They were supposed to be the ones luring Wilkes into an alley.
Those routes I'd investigated were across the road, and my chances of getting Wilkes there were slim to none. So I had to do something I hated--blindly walk into the first suitable-looking alley I crossed.
When I stepped into that alley, I lo
oked toward the first intersection and thought of nothing but getting there...as fast as possible. For that thirty-second trip, Wilkes could come around the corner and shoot me from behind, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.
I could argue that a gun hit made no sense. It was too risky this close to the sidewalk. Shooting someone in the back was a coward's ploy, and unlikely to impress the Feds. Plus, considering he'd invited the police, he wouldn't take the chance of walking around carrying a gun.
Dirt crunched as my pursuer rounded the corner behind me. I kept my pace fast but steady. Speed up and he'd know I heard him. Just a few more steps...
I hit the first corner and took a split second to look each way, searching for the nearest doorway or second corner, getting Wilkes far enough from the crowded street. The alley intersected with another about fifteen feet to my right, so I turned that way. I crossed the first half of the distance in a few long strides. From the occasional whisper of his shoes on the dirt, I knew my pursuer was still behind me. Yet he seemed to be moving slowly--slower than I expected. Being cautious? Or wasn't it Wilkes?
I was convinced it was him, but I could leave no chance I would, in my eagerness, shoot an innocent man.
The man I'd seen could have been a random pervert or mugger, more than willing to follow a woman into an alley. It might not be the man I'd spotted, but Jack or Evelyn or a cop seeing me turn into the alley and following. Or it could be some drunken student who'd slipped from the parade for a piss break. And if it was the latter, then I sincerely apologized for what I was about to do, and hoped his full bladder could withstand it.
When I reached that next junction, I'd round the corner, then get up against the wall and wait, gun drawn. Wilkes would turn--
I hit the corner...and found no corner to turn. What I'd thought was the junction of another alley was a doorway--with a recess so shallow I couldn't even duck in and hide. As I slowed, my gaze swung forward again, looking for a second option. Ahead, less than a dozen feet away, a real alley intersection, one I could see from this angle wasn't another dead end. But Wilkes was too close. He'd never let me get that far. My only option was to break into a run and escape.
Run and he'd know he'd been made. And, like any good hitman, he would back off.
Run and I'd lose him.
I stared at that intersection and knew I should do it. Escape and try again later. But everything in me rebelled at the very thought.
Run like a coward? Like a helpless thirteen-year-old girl? Run and let him kill someone else, sacrifice another life for mine? Never again.
I saw my chances, knew they were far from perfect, maybe even far from good, and I made the only choice I could.
I slowed down.
Gravel crunched behind me. Right behind me. I spun and saw Wilkes closer than I'd expected. Saw the wire raised above my head. My gaze met his and, for a split second, I saw his surprise and dismay.
He twisted behind me again, and the wire swung down. For one second, as the metal flashed, something inside me went wild with fear, seeing not a wire, but a knife. Then my hand tightened around the Glock and the feel of it jolted me back. I started to raise the gun, but my brain screamed "too late," and I let it drop inside my pocket. Both my hands shot up, palms up, just in time to block my throat as the wire came down.
The wire sliced into my palms and I let out a soft gasp. Instinctively I pushed it away, but it only bit in harder. For a second, we just stood locked in indecision, our hands occupied, unable to let go. My first urge was to kick backward. But I stopped myself before my foot left the ground. Kick and I'd lose my balance. Lose my balance, and I risked letting go of this wire, and the second I did that, it was through my windpipe and into my carotid artery.
I unclenched my right, releasing a stream of blood down the inside of my wrist. With the slick blood, my hand slid free. Then the wire jerked up. If I wasn't going to lose my balance, he'd do it for me. I swung my hand forward, then drove my elbow into his gut.
My elbow made contact just as he kneed me again and my legs gave way. I let them give way. Let myself crumple forward onto the wire just as he stumbled back from my blow, grunting, as if I'd hit him harder than I thought. He released the wire and I pitched face-first to the ground.
"Hey!"
The shout rang down the alley, followed by the pound of running footsteps. Young male voices. Multiple running footsteps. I ignored them and flipped over, my hand going to my pocket for my gun. As I rolled, I saw Wilkes poised over me. But he'd frozen in place, head up, hearing the approaching voices and footsteps. Our eyes met. His filled with rage and frustration and, again, I drank it in.
He wheeled. I pulled out the gun. Swung it toward his fleeing back. Smiled as I watched him trying to run, but faltering, as if still feeling that blow to the gut. Such an easy target. I allowed myself one delicious shudder. Then, finger on the trigger--
A pair of legs jumped into the way, running out from a side alley.
"Whoa!"
My rescuer backpedaled, but stayed in my line of fire...and Wilkes disappeared around the next corner. I flew to my feet, but hands grabbed me.
"He's gone. It's okay. He's gone."
I turned, snarling, ready to shove this kid out of my way and tear off after Wilkes. But then I saw the boy's face, eyes wide with terror--innocent--and it was like a bucket of ice water. I'd missed my opportunity. Now I was on the ground, a gun in my hands, blood streaming down my arms, surrounded by a bunch of college kids who thought they'd just saved me from a killer.
